


Checkmate

by TheRogueHuntress



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Because Tom takes what he wants, Chess, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possessive Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRogueHuntress/pseuds/TheRogueHuntress
Summary: Abraxas is summoned to play a game of chess.





	Checkmate

"Off again?" Lucille called. She was sitting in the parlour, sipping at a glass of champagne, idly watching the harpist Abraxas had bought for her fumble his way through a minuet. He was hardly any good at playing the harp… but that wasn't exactly what Abraxas had bought him for. He was a pretty boy, with dark hair, and big brown eyes… Abraxas and Lucille's tastes did ever run in the same vein.

"Indeed, my dear."

She fixed him with her steel grey gaze, eyes momentarily sharp, before she took another sip of champagne and they slipped closed with contentment.

"Have a good evening," she murmured. She tilted her head to the side, allowing her shawl to slip off her shoulder, exposing a slither of creamy, pale skin. The harpist fumbled another string, and Abraxas scoffed quietly.

He strode out of the parlour, and apparated from Malfoy Manor the moment he reached the hall. He arrived at a manor that was not quite as opulent (a thought that he was sure to bury beneath his Occlumency barriers), but was nonetheless suitably grandiose, with crystalline chandeliers and tapestries sown with gold thread.

"My Lord," he murmured to the man who awaited him. He was tall, with chocolate brown hair that curled to frame his face and unfathomable dark eyes.

"Come, Abraxas," his Lord commanded, crooking a finger,drawing him further into the house. Abraxas had no choice but to follow, and he did so willingly.

He was lead to his Lord's study, lit only by the flickering flames of a fire, and the candles that mounted the mantlepiece. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a deep mahogany desk was littered with parchment and scrolls that his Lord organised with an idle flick of his wand, storing them away. By the fire were two forest green, velvet armchairs, and a chessboard was set up upon a coffee table between them.

"Please, do sit," his Lord instructed, a faint smile of amusement upon his face when Abraxas hesitated. "What's your poison?"

Abraxas stared into the fire, and wondered if it was a trick question. "Brandy," he decided.

His Lord snapped his fingers. "A glass of Castillon for my guest, and a glass of the 1911 Steinberger for myself," he said. Moments later, two drinks appeared on the side table.

"That's a well-trained house elf you've got there," Abraxas admired.

"Mmm, yes… the threat of becoming Anguia's dinner is quite enough incentive."

It was only then that Abraxas noticed the snake curled up beside the fireplace, one of the largest he'd ever seen, black scales with a red diamond pattern down the back. His Lord quietly hissed at her in Parseltongue, and she blinked lazily back at him before curling upon herself.

"The language of royalty," his Lord murmured, "according to Salazar Slytherin."

"Indeed," Abraxas agreed, and tried to hide the shiver that went down his spine.

His Lord finally took his seat, and sipped at his wine, pink lips kissing the rim of the glass. Abraxas hastily gulped at his brandy, and tried not to stare; not at the snake, nor at his Lord.

"You may start," his Lord said, and gestured to the board between them, the white pieces lined up neatly before Abraxas.

"You are most gracious," he replied, and inclined his head.

"Am I?" His Lord arched a brow.

"Pawn to E4," Abraxas said, for lack of anything better to say. His Lord steepled his hands, and then with a gentle flick of his fingers, the matching black pawn moved forward two spaces. Abraxas bit back his surprise at the casual use of wandless magic, and took another sip of brandy while he thought of his next move.

"A terrible state wizarding Britain is in, wouldn't you agree?"

Abraxas glanced up from the board, wary of the direction the evening was taking.

"Abominable." He cleared his throat. "Knight to C3."

His Lord tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed. "Bishop to C5. A Muggleborn running for Minister… what next – a Muggle?"

Abraxas scoffed, drawn in despite himself. "It won't come to that." The very thought was appalling. "Why, there's not a single chance Leach will be voted in. Pawn to D3."

"None whatsoever?" his Lord murmured, his voice silky and smooth. "What would you be willing to bet on that?"

"There's not much I wouldn't," he said, and thought of all the precious artefacts he owned, and which one of them his Lord was interested in for the conversation to have taken this turn. Should his Lord need it, he would offer them up gladly.

Abraxas startled when he realised that his Lord had extended his leg, brushing their calves together. Even that brief touch set his body aflame, and he shifted, hoping that he could blame his flush upon the fire. For years he had nursed an attraction… once that he had not thought had been reciprocated at all. Even still, he doubted. He gulped down the last of his brandy, and looked up to see a smirk playing about his Lord's lips, one that both intrigued and worried him. He glanced back down to the chessboard, and noted with a frown the Black Queen floating to settle upon square F6.

"A risky play… Knight to D5," he countered.

His Lord arched a brow, impossibly attractive as a grin flashed across his face. Abraxas was being cruelly teased, and he could not help but enjoy it. "Dangerous, perhaps… but not risky. Queen to F2… or should I say… checkmate?"

Abraxas swallowed a groan as his King dropped his sword, bowing to the Queen that towered over him.

"A good game," he said, and thought he did remarkably well to avoid sounding bitter. His Lord huffed a quiet laugh, and the chessboard was levitated away to the side table.

"Yes, indeed." His Lord straightened, gaze becoming solemn.

"I wonder, Abraxas, if you've seen the paper this evening."

His Lord leaned forward, extending a hand, and the Daily Prophet flew into it from across the room. He slid it across the table between them, newspaper whispering against the wood.

Abraxas stared at the headline and schooled his face blank despite his shock.

IGNOTIUS TUFT FORCED FROM OFFICE, NOBBY LEACH INTERIM MINISTER FOR MAGIC

Abruptly, his Lord stood, and Abraxas scrambled to match him. They were close, almost toe to toe, and Abraxas was distinctly aware that his Lord was taller and broader, and his gaze was strikingly sharp.

"I believe that you said there wasn't much you wouldn't bet, is that right?" his Lord murmured, and captured Abraxas' chin in a strong grip, slender fingers surprisingly firm. "Would you give it all?"

"That's right, I would," Abraxas said, heart racing. Perhaps he was being used, but if it was all that he could have, he would take it and be happy.

His Lord brushed their lips together, and he tasted like wine and magic.

"First then, I'll have this," he murmured, stepping even closer, their bodies pressed together. Abraxas was impossibly caught in his web, a fly content even as its doom approached. "And after that… I'll take the world."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading. Find me on [tumblr](https://theroguehuntress.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat, or feel free to comment!


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